"I'd let him go on if we had schools of our own, but I won't have him go to a Magyar school to forget his language and learn to despise his own kin like Shlachta's boy," his father declared with emphasis.
"Better have him ignorant than false to his birthright," his mother agreed.
The teacher nodded. He understood.
"If you could only send him to Bohemia," he suggested.
"If," repeated the father grimly.
"What is this about Bohemia?" asked Jozef's godfather, who had just come up. He was a tall, thin, muscular man, whose hair hung down his back in two tiny braids. He was known for his liberal and somewhat "heretical" opinions. "I am going there after the holidays. Do you want to send some message?"
The teacher explained to him how things stood. "If we don't educate our children," he pleaded, "the Magyars will take greater and greater advantage of our ignorance."
Jozef's godfather stood a few moments in thought. Then he nodded good-by and left. The teacher was not put out. He was glad that he was going to think it over.
The next morning the godfather was over at Jozef's house bright and early.